


Aries Rising

by astrodisea



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Exposition Heavy, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, post-TDOTL, pretty major TDotL spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:12:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrodisea/pseuds/astrodisea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dexter asked, “Can you get out of bed?”<br/>Saracen swallowed. “With enough incentive,” he answered.<br/>“It’s just I’d really like it if you’d kiss me, that’s all.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aries Rising

**Author's Note:**

> bc I'm not a scumbag: This has major spoilers so stop reading now, like don't even read the rest of these notes lol, if you haven't finished the series!  
> I was a bit miffed that Vex and Saracen were basically left in limbo and you don't even know for sure if either of them canonically survive so I wrote this, not to hate but urgh 7 years and no sense of closure  
> but yes hope you enjoy<3 tried my best to stay in character as much as possible  
> comments and kudos appreciated as always

Dexter Vex woke up to fluorescent white lights, the smell of dust, and the rhythmic electronic beating of the Medical Bay’s equipment. His entire being groaned with the frustration of being awake. Some other patient vocalised that groan from the other side of the room, then fell silent.

Dexter blinked and looked down at himself. A gelatinous gauze rested against his bare chest, above his abdominals. His neck was coated in mud, skull throbbing in misery. He considered going back to sleep but fought to remember how he’d ended up here. He remembered the useless divining rods, going after the Remnants with Fletcher and the Monster Hunters and –

“You look like I feel,” said Saracen Rue.

He lay in the next bed to the left, eyes raking over Dexter, limbs coated in a blue-tinged mucous that was slowly erasing a smattering of rich bruises, purple and black. A disconnected respirator stood behind him. Saracen wore nothing but that winning smile. There was a curtain separating the two of them from the rest of the Medical Bay.

Despite the aches, Dexter smiled to hear his friend’s voice, eyes closing in relief. He masked the happiness before he answered, “There are bull-ants in my head.”

“Remnant possession will do that to you.”

Dexter concentrated on what had happened to put him here. They were talking about Fletcher’s love-life. Saracen had abandoned the divining rod, marched to the road. “I just remembered the,” Dexter tried to turn onto his side and hissed, falling back down, “creepy little kid. Then nothing until… Darquesse reached down my _throat_. That’s just…”

“Foul? Unpleasant?”

“Salty.”

“Y’know, I wasn’t going to mention the intestinal damage, but since you brought it up.”

Dexter went to laugh but the pain stopped him. He grimaced. “I take it we won, then?”

“That really depends on your level of optimism.” Saracen scratched an itch under his chin. “Personally, I’d say we barely managed to avert a loss, but I had a wall dropped on me so I might be a tad gloomy. You missed a hell of a fight. You should have seen me, Dexter. I had the bow. The _God-killer_. I was like Legolas, or Merida. I was so close. I must have been or else Darquesse wouldn’t have bothered to bury me in that damn wall.

“Anyway. Our best and only surviving Sensitives jammed a montage of false memories into the resident worldbreaker, had her believing she’d destroyed this dimension and everything in it. So she ripped open a great stinking portal and tottered along into the next reality over.”

Dexter looked over at his friend to gauge his sincerity. “We set Darquesse on Mevolent?”

“Not quite. We set Darquesse on The Faceless Ones.”

He thought about that. She’d have to be torn apart. She’d have to be. The alternative was too horrific to contemplate.

“What about the Accelerator?” Dexter asked, to get that level of evil out of his mind. “How long until it overloads?”

Saracen went to shake his head, then stiffened with the pain it brought, and stopped. “Skulduggery found a loophole in the freely given clause,” he bit out. “He tossed Erskine into it and didn’t look back.”

Dexter went numb. The feelings of grief for his friend and comrade, yet conflicting sense of contentment at the justice that had been served, kept him quiet. Erskine Ravel had been a traitor. Ghastly’s murderer. Dexter wasn’t sorry Erskine was dead. But all those years fighting side by side made him wonder how many people he could trust, and how many people close to him were still alive.

He said, “Can I get out of this bed?”

“You’re recovering from massive internal haemorrhaging, two broken ribs, and a ruptured oesophagus. Don’t be an idiot. Honestly I’m surprised you can even speak. But it always did take a great amount of effort to shut you up.” Saracen paused. “Dexter… all joking aside, I’ve never been so glad to be able to watch you open your eyes.”

Dexter couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “When’s the last time we woke up together? Bolivia? Oslo?”

“Kiev, darling. It had rained for five days. Not a spot of sunshine for miles.”

“With two black eyes, I’m surprised you could see anything.”

The other man scowled. “Bloody Gremlins. Horrible little beasts, all fangs and bristles… They’re really nothing like in those movies.”

“I tried to tell you. I said, Saracen, it won’t make the slightest difference if they have to walk through the puddles, water doesn’t do anything except make them smell like wet dog, but did you listen? Next thing I know you’re out of the car, shrieking and flapping your arms, trying to stop them from getting wet.”

It wasn’t often Saracen Rue was beaten, much less by opponents that didn’t offer snide commentary mid-fight. He remained all the more bitter from it. “I was certain they’d multiply. You can blame the Monster Hunters for that one – their books are useless beyond compare.” The scowl dropped. Despite himself, he smiled. “Even though I went into the fight with drastic misconceptions as to, well, everything, really, I like to think I gave as good as I got.”

“I disagree. They swarmed you before I could even get out of the car. I couldn’t see you under all that fur. I thought they’d eaten you.”

“You saved my life.” The equipment of the Medical Bay pulsed. Across the room, somebody snored. Another pause, a lull in the conversation, the weighted silence over Saracen’s bed where he stared unflinching at the ceiling, meant Dexter Vex could track the shift in the mood before the commitment in Saracen Rue’s voice became apparent. “Dexter–”

“I know that tone. We’ve had this conversation before, Saracen. More than once, I might add.”

“That’s because I can never find the right words.”

Dexter said nothing. His throat was sore but that wasn’t what kept him silent.

Saracen kept going, words rushing out, moths to fire. “Under that wall, all my regrets came back to me, what I wished I could take back and do over. But the worst of them was you. The way I treated you in the past. Not being man enough to go to you when I needed you, sleeping around like it would get you out of my head. You have to believe me.”

Dexter squared his jaw. “I believe you, Saracen, but I know you, too. You’re a promiscuous man. I could never change that.” What he wouldn’t give to walk away.

“Dexter. Look at me.” He did. “Properly, look at me. I’ve let myself go, you’ve said it a thousand times before.”

The tendons of Dexter’s neck creaked when his head turned. He saw the pudge, he saw the imperfections, but they didn’t matter. That mind, that man, that courage, that honesty. Saracen’s warm eyes stared back at him and God, Dexter wanted to go to him. But he felt the distance between them expand.

“And still,” Dexter mused, “no woman or man can resist you.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone in over six months. Since we went after the God-killers.”

“You mean since Aurora,” Dexter corrected, spurned. He watched his friend’s eyes go wide in response to the coldness in his voice. “Saracen, I was right there. Don’t try to tell me you care about me when you were shacking up with someone else right in front of me.”

“Because I couldn’t have you! Because I’d put on weight, because you still treat me like there’s nothing between us even after all those _times_ –”

“Is this _my_ fault now?”

“Never,” he swore. “Dexter, this may be hard to believe coming from a face like mine, but I’m dreadfully, woefully insecure. But I’m working on it, I swear to God. And I’m done with women. I’m done with men, too. All I want? The only person I want under me, to be under, is you. Exclusively.”

Like a rubber band, the distance between them snapped back into nonexistence. All he wanted was Saracen closer. They’d been saving each other’s lives from the day they met. Saracen Rue would always be the first person Dexter Vex called. And he believed him, because he trusted this man with more than his life, because he trusted this man with more than the world.

“I really can’t read minds, you know. I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

Dexter asked, “Can you get out of bed?”

Saracen swallowed. “With enough incentive,” he answered.

“It’s just I’d really like it if you’d kiss me, that’s all.”

Saracen was by his side within moments.

“I have internal bleeding,” Dexter murmured into Saracen’s mouth, eyes half-closed. “Be gentle. I’m a fragile man.”

Saracen snorted, forehead resting against Dexter’s, fingers stroking along his short hair. “You are many things. _Fragile_ has never been one of them.”

He kissed him again, long and slow, all soothing heat and gentle comfort. Dexter’s hands drifted to his waist, their noses brushed, their skin touched, breath mingling together in the shared space. He nipped the other man’s lower lip, neck protesting as his kisses drifted to Saracen’s throat, hands caressing Saracen’s sides, and he felt a shy touch against his abs, and Dexter smiled even though it hurt.

“Heal faster, Vex,” Saracen whispered into his hair. “Synecdoche is walking this way.”

“Let her watch,” Dexter growled, and kept kissing him. Saracen didn’t protest.

Doctor Synecdoche dragged open the curtain, and paused. She blushed. “Gentlemen, while this brings a smile to my face in what has been the single most stressful day of my career, you’re both recovering from critical conditions.”

Dexter laughed at Saracen’s pout and the way his hands clutched Dexter tighter, squeezed his shoulder. “If the world’s no longer in danger, then we have a fair amount of time on our hands. Lie back down,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Saracen’s eyes stayed on Dexter. Then they flickered to his bed. Then back to Dexter. He bit his lip and limped back to the bed, grabbing onto the edge of the framework and dragging it across the linoleum floor with great effort, the bed screeching as he worked.

Doctor Synecdoche said with great concern and no small amount of frustration, “Mr Rue, this is inadvisable.”

“Indulge me, Doctor. I need comforting. I need Dexter’s comforting, specifically. He has to hold my hand. Otherwise I’ll cry. Have you ever seen a grown man cry? It can be uncomfortable for all parties concerned. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Doctor.” He grunted, moved to the other side of the bed, pushed it until it touched Dexter’s. “Thus. Bed.”

Dexter tried not to smile. “He doesn’t seem any worse than before to me, Doc.” Saracen got back onto the bed, setting the blue-tinged slime back onto place on his legs.

“Actually,” he said, pulling a sheet over his lower body, “I now have four more stress fractures.”

“I’ll send in an assistant with more mud,” Synecdoche muttered, dragging the curtain closed.

Dexter looked at his friend. “Are any of those stress fractures in your right hand?”

Saracen hesitated. “Nope.”

Dexter reached for his hand, entwining their fingers, feeling Saracen’s callouses.

“Ah,” Saracen nodded, “there we go. I lied. I think my wrist is sprained.”

Dexter let go of his hand. “It’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m putting on a brave face. But honestly, if we weren’t supposed to make out, there wouldn’t have been a curtain around us.”

“The curtain’s there to keep up morale,” Synecdoche called. “You would be amazed how difficult it was to keep spirits high around the half-dead bodies of two Dead Men.”

“Oh,” said Saracen. “Oh, that makes sense.”

“Someone will be with you shortly,” Synecdoche responded. “Please, gentlemen, don’t move. You’re undoing all my good work, and resources are thinly spread.” She walked off.

Dexter waited. He waited some more.

“She’s gone,” Saracen said. “She’s dealing with an Elemental who lost five teeth in the explosion.” Dexter’s hand moved to Saracen’s chest. He traced light patterns on the other man. Saracen hummed.

“Now,” Dexter smiled, “what would you say if I told you I’m planning on withholding sex until you tell me what your power is?”

Saracen Rue paled and moaned in abject suffering, letting out an actual sob. Then he went still. Dexter became aware of a shadow on the curtain.

“I’ll come back later,” the assistant squeaked, before his quick footsteps hurried away.


End file.
